


Random Events... Or Not

by Rosehip



Series: Ceilidh Tabris saves the Damn World [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Child Abuse, Childhood Friends, Gen, Prequel, Vaughan is creepy, howe is a jerk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 01:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19307884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosehip/pseuds/Rosehip
Summary: Nathaniel will train in the Free Marches, soon. He didn't want to be stuck in Denerim with his siblings, not quite welcome among the adults, and not quite at ease among the festivities of the season. And so, he was hiding in a tree when Anora spotted her dressmaker's elven assistant, and what should have been a small thing escalated. As they do.





	Random Events... Or Not

**Author's Note:**

> My make-it-worse button got stuck again, but not that stuck. Tw: a child is struck, and the Tabris origin is foreshadowed.

A breeze rustled through the leaves of the tree in which Nathaniel perched. It should by all rights have exposed him to view, but nobody ever seemed to look up. _Half of hiding is just everyone not seeing stuff they don't already know is there,_ he thought to himself. _I could probably drop acorns on Dalilah's stupid head and nobody would notice._ It was a tempting thought. His sister had snuck bugs into his raisin-flecked oatmeal at breakfast, and the day had not improved since. By the same token, however, Nathaniel didn't want to risk being found. Inside, grownups plotted, and had no use for him. Outside, Anora held her own court with Nathaniel's siblings and Vaughan Kendalls in attendance.  


Nathaniel had less than no time for Anora. He had his own mind to work with, and she was too bossy by half. They mixed badly.

No, the tree was the best place to be, and even if most people weren't particularly observant, a little mischief wasn't worth the cost of maybe being spotted.

Delilah braided Anora's long, blonde hair into a macrame nightmare, and experimented with different ribbon colors.

“Which do you think, Vaughan, dear? The blue with white edging, or the lavender satin?” Anora asked, with a miscievous little smirk.

“Oh, most definitely the blue, my lady,” said the wormy little toad, in what he probably thought of as a ladykilling tone. Pity his voice hadn't finished changing, yet. “It matches your eyes.”

“Good choice,” agreed Delilah. “The satin is slippery and might come out before the evening is half over.”

“You're so practical, Delilah,” said Anora. “I suppose one must think of such things. You wouldn't want to look like horses dragged you in by the fourth dance. Although with some partners, you might anyway.”

“Oh, like you're not just going to dance the whole night with _Cailan,”_ Delilah giggled, with a toss of her own dark locks.  


“Oh, but of course I couldn't do that. One has to mingle and save dances for other friends as well.”

_You mean you want to keep the poor guy guessing,_ thought Nathaniel to himself.  _Maker, Vaughan, you can't be participating in this voluntarily. Neither of them are_ that _pretty._ Thomas, young enough to think that girls had germs, had abandoned them all and gone to play with his puppy.  


“Oh my goodness, look!” said Anora as she bounced to her feet, spilling bits of ribbon everywhere and causing Delilah to lose her place.”That is my seamstress' messenger. You! Elf! Come here, girl!”

Nathaniel wondered how she had spotted one particular elf in the bustle of the Denerim streets beyond their townhouse garden. He wondered it even more when he craned his neck to look and spotted the tiny elf in question; or part of her, anyway. Tanned, bare arms and legs stuck out from behind a huge wrapped bundle. A fringe of much mended blue skirt could just barely be made out behind the package the poor creature carried.

The little elf stuck her head out around her burden. Nathaniel could make out vibrant green eyes, dark, frizzy hair, and a startlingly aquiline nose. “I am sorry miss. I can't delay. I must get this to its...”

“Number four Oakmoss Street?” interrupted Anora.

The entire bundle shook with the elf's surprise.

“I thought so! That is my dress for the celebration next week. You may as well bring it here, elf-”

“Miss, I can't. I have to follow direc-”

“Oh, nonsense. It is for the Mac Tir household, is it not?”

“Yes but, that's not this. I can't just stop anywhere-”

Vaughan apparently saw an opportunity to appeal to Anora. “Who taught you your manners, knife ear? It is her dress and she told you to bring it here!” He strode over to the elf who dodged out of his way as he tried to grab it from her. He connected with the back of her shirt instead, jerking the poor girl up short. Her burden fell into the dust of the street, unrolling and exposing a periwinkle pile of silk to view and the footprints of a startled passerby who couldn't stop in time.

Anora's affronted voice shrieked across the sudden hubbub. “It'll be ruined!” Nathaniel couldn't remember precisely how old she was, but her roughly sixteen years suddenly seemed very ancient indeed, and she seemed like the queen he was fairly certain she would one day be.

Her voice sure carried. Within seconds, her father came out of the house, his face stormy. He was no doubt ready to do battle with whatever had offended his little princess. His own Father came behind the man.

What has happened, Anora?” the Teyrn asked, as he gathered her into a half hug.

“Father, this elf is Miss Linnet's servant. She has dropped my dress into the street!”

“I thought she looked familiar,” mused Loghain. “But why is she here? I could have sworn I asked that to be sent straight home,”

A rare shred of human decency emerged in Delilah. “That's what she said, Ser, but Anora called her over and...” But Vaughan shot her a look that could kill. “Um, it seems to have been an accident that it fell.”

The elf child had gathered up the silk again and was attempting to brush the dust out of it. Her green eyes had gone terribly wide. Thomas and his puppy had vanished as though they'd never been there at all. Delilah seemed to immediately regret her outburst and took herself elsewhere.

Loghain stroked his daughter's complicated mass of blonde braids. “It is all right, Anora. It will wash. At least it's dry out.”

Anora looked like she wanted to argue but held her tongue. She did pout a little.

“I suppose it is time we were on our way, regardless. Thank you for the hospitality, Howe. I will speak to you another day. Come, Anora, we'll get you home.” He actually chuckled. “I still remember when you liked frogs and ducklings better than you liked silk in any case.” He retrieved the bundle from the elf and wrapped it loosely under an arm.

“Father,” Anora chided as they walked away. “I'm not six, anymore!'

“Forever, my dear.” He gave her an affectionate squeeze.

Nathaniel didn't know what to make of that. The Teyrn always seemed so... hard, but get his daughter around him and he melted. He must have a strange household.

His own Father didn't. He was always strong and determined, in front of anyone.

Once Loghain and Anora had been on their way, the elf stood in the entry of the garden, looking confused and lost. She bit her lower lip and looked like she wanted to run after the retreating pair, but couldn't bring herself to.

Nathaniel's father got a look on his face that Nathaniel knew well. “You there, elf! Come here.”

He'd used the tone that brooked no disagreement and the elf came up to him without hesitation. “Ser?”

“Loghain may not have felt it behooved him to reprimand you, but you caused a guest in my house a great upset. I can't let that go unanswered. I'm sure you understand.” His house? mused Nathaniel. It was a rented townhouse, so that they could spend a season in Denerim, but Father spoke as though he had absolute dominion over anywhere he happened to be.

“Please, Ser, I didn't want to stop here at all. I just...”

“Now, now, no excuses.” Nathaniel's father smiled. “This will take but a moment, and then you may be back off to your shop. But perhaps you'll remember not to be so clumsy in the future.” He sounded firm and yet reasonable. Nathaniel wondered why his father even cared about any of this, but the man had decided what was to happen next, and when he did, there was no arguing with him.

The elf felt it, too. Her head bowed, and she nodded. Her arms fell slack at her sides.

“Very good, elf. Come here, out of view of the street. No need to advertize your incompetence. I'm sure you've learned a great deal, today, and it won't happen, again.” Father slid the belt off his hips and the elf deflated in what looked like _relief._ Nathaniel couldn't imagine being relieved to be about to receive a beating, but her imagination must have conjured up a worse fate. Or, maybe she didn't get punished often and didn't know how this was about to feel.

Nathaniel scratched that last thought almost immediately. Without direction, the elf went over to the stone bench Anora had been sitting on and bent herself over it. Nathaniel really didn't feel like he should watch this, but if he stirred from this branch, he was certain Father would see him. He didn't care to attract notice. He clung to the branch all the harder, pressing his chest to the rough bark of the solid limb. The solidity of his hiding place comforted him. Not for the first time, he felt that secrecy and silence were his truest friends.

Casually, but with a tiny smile, Father lifted the elf's skirt and tucked it into her collar. Then he stepped back, and the crack and clang of the buckle-end of the leather belt rang out five times.

Nathaniel could see the elf's face from this angle, and he watched resolution melt into naked hatred over the course of the scant minute the whole proceedings took. When the last blow had fallen, the girl schooled her features into a blank mask. She hadn't shed a single tear. Nathaniel was impressed.

He looked up past the tiny form to his Father, and was startled to see Vaughan Kendalls behind him, a wicked little smirk on his face. Nathaniel had forgotten him in the drama of the last few minutes.

Father restored her clothing to its proper place and said, “There you are, then. Be on your way, elf, and mind how you deal with noble ladies in future.” The elf scampered out of the gate without saying a word. She looked as if the lesson she'd taken away from the proceedings was to never deal with noble ladies again for as long as she lived, but as a seamstress' servant, she'd have to.

Father turned around and met Vaughan's eyes. Nathaniel saw that unlike himself, Father had not forgotten he was there. “A lesson for you, as well, perhaps,” Father said. “One must be firm in such matters. Your father is still inside. Perhaps he'll wish to stay for dinner. Come, now.”

Nathaniel resolved not to follow them. It was well within Father's rights to scold the delivery girl, and yet, something about it didn't sit well with him. He didn't want to think about it, and if Father discussed either the upcoming celebrations or the incompetence of the servant classes in the next hour or two before dinner, he'd  _have_ to think about it. That smile, and the look on Vaughan's face... neither seemed like the proper expression of a gentleman; or at least that girl didn't seem like the proper object of such expressions.  


That girl... she had been foolish to talk back to Anora, but brave in the face of his Father's displeasure. Something else didn't sit right with Nathaniel about the situation. It didn't seem... gentlemanlike to make her walk back to the market district alone after something like that. Was she even ten years old?

 _Idiot,_ Nathaniel chided himself. _She runs deliveries. She probably knows the city better than you do, and doesn't need any handholding._ _Besides, gentlemen don't have to treat servants as real ladies...  
_

Only... why not? What would it cost, really?

Father and Vaughan had gone back into the house. Maker knew where Thomas and Dalilah were. Nathaniel slid down the tree, careful not to snag his clothes on the bark. He crept out of the garden, clinging to the shadows along the wall.

Out in the street, he didn't have far to go. The elf stood at the first intersection, looking indecisive. She held a crumpled note in her hand. To Nathaniel's surprise, she turned back around and headed towards him. She limped a little.

“Excuse me, el- miss?” he addressed her.

“Ser?” she stopped, but Nathaniel could see she didn't want to. Her tone was polite, but barely. Frustration crept in.

“Miss, ah, can I help you? I can walk back to your shop with you, if you like. People might not bother you if I'm with you.”

She squared up with him, a hardness in her eyes. “You were watching.” It sounded like an accusation.

“Yes.” Nathaniel shifted uncomfortably. “I didn't want to, but couldn't slip away.”

She sighed. “I guess it doesn't matter. I don't need your pity, though.”

_Was_ that what he was feeling? Some, probably. This little girl surely had to put up with a lot. And yet, looking inward, Nathaniel also found- a common bond? Is that what this was? That hadn't been her fault, but it hadn't really mattered. His Father had decided what was to be, and so there it was. There was no point in arguing. She knew it, and he knew it.  


“All right,” he said. “Pity withdrawn. But you look like something else is the matter?”

She shrugged. “Dunno why you care. Nobody signed this receipt. I have to get it for the records so nobody can say they didn't get their delivery.”

“I doubt you'd have to worry about that from Teyrn Loghain.”

“Doesn't matter.”

No, Nathaniel supposed it didn't. Things were done how they were. He considered forging it for her, but immediately discarded the idea. It would almost certainly never be found out, but if it was, the consequences could be dire. One really had to weigh the risks and rewards carefully when contemplating subterfuge. “I'll go back with you. I'll ask him for you, if you want.” He started heading back the way they had come, and the elf fell into step beside him.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked him.

Why was he? “I suppose... the world is a certain way. I get that. But, I read things. In books, sometimes I come across a different way. Why not take my examples from that?” In the histories he'd read, he found families who loved eachother, and the chivalrous gentlemen of Calenhad's day certainly wouldn't beat young girls semi-publicly where other gentlemen could leer at them. Leering? Was that the look that had been on Vaughan's face? Nathaniel had only read the term, but it seemed to fit. Nathaniel squashed the beginnings of disapproval he felt. He'd said himself that the world was a certain way. How could he expect everyone around him to adhere to the heroic standards of old? But... perhaps he could hold  _himself_ to them.  


“I guess,” said the elf.

“I'm Nathaniel, by the way.”

“Ceilidh,” she replied, and held out her hand for shaking, before looking doubtful and drawing it back.

Nathaniel caught it, and shook her hand as an equal might.

They had a bit of a walk ahead of them yet. “Soooo, tell me about your books,” Ceilidh requested, after a bit of awkward silence.

He did. Nathaniel shared bits of history and anecdotes of different places. She proved an appreciative audience. The subject pushed the unpleasantness of earlier out of their minds and the air between them grew clearer.

In the end, the receipt was no trouble at all. Nathaniel asked to see Loghain. It would usually have been a job for the housekeeper, but as the man himself had taken the delivery, he'd be the best one to ask for the signature. Loghain didn't seem to see anything odd in Nathaniel's presence, or the request. He simply said “Oh, of course. I should have realized. There you are,” and immediately turned away to the several hundred other things that no doubt needed his attention. Nathaniel's Father would have had more to say. Perhaps it was that Loghain had been a commoner once?

“Not so hard, was it?” asked Nathaniel, once they reached the street.

Ceilidh smiled, shyly. “Maybe not, but, what if he'd been mad I upset his daughter?”

“I see.” And Nathaniel did see. His father had been angry that the mishap had happened in his house, Loghain might have been mad that Anora was upset, and maybe the seamstress would still be mad at the delay. The potential consequences stacked up. “Will they dock your pay if you're late?”

“I don't get paid. I get food and leftover fabric, and that saves my parents a lot of money. When Miss Linnet can trust me to do more than hem and press, I'll get some coin. I'm not late, yet, but I might have to explain why I'm hurt. I think if I tell her I was just... in someone's way, and that it wasn't a customer who was upset, it should be fine.”

Nathaniel thought about arguing, but realized that her tale was true enough. Inasmuch as he wanted to believe that her treatment was just, he couldn't figure out what she could have done differently.

He walked all the way back to her shop with her. Nathaniel wasn't sure anybody would notice he was missing, in any case. Nobody bothered them, but from the looks on the faces of some of the passers by, they might have bothered Ceilidh if she had been alone. Again, he reminded himself that she was used to it. Still, nobody would ever catch him acting low to an elven girl. They clearly had enough problems and he would not be one of them.

“I should really go,” Ceilidh said when they reached her destination. “But thanks for walking with me. You did save me some trouble.”

On a whim he bowed to her. Overdoing it? Probably, as she frowned at him.

“Ceilidh,” He began, suddenly nervous. How would she take this? But he had a sudden impulse he thought he might regret forever if he didn't follow. “Do you read?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I do.”

By the rise of her shoulders, he thought he'd offended her but also that she didn't read _well_. “You see, I have my old books. They're written for children. They wouldn't be difficult. I haven't read them for a while. I'm not even sure why I brought them with me. They're just keepsakes at this point. Would you like them? I'll bring them to you.”

She obviously did. Her face looked hopeful and shuttered at once. “I can't pay you. Books are expensive.”

“I know. It's just... we talked about stories and I thought you might like to read them yourself.”

“Well could I... borrow them?”

“Yes! I'll bring them by tomorrow.” And he did.

As little as his family noticed him, they certainly never knew that at times throughout the summer, Nathaniel wandered the streets of Denerim, and occasionally would have been found in some startling parts of it, if he were not so adept at avoiding notice entirely. He didn't retrieve his books, for they made the rounds of several elf children. Books were for reading. He'd leave Ferelden having done a tiny bit of good for the people his family and their peers didn't usually notice. It was enough.

He certainly didn't expect to meet the young seamstress again, but he would.

Eventually.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [MadamSnark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamSnark/pseuds/MadamSnark) for taking a look at this quite some time ago. And thank you for reading it, now. Their eventual reunion will be... interesting. >:D


End file.
